To Lose Control
by Laeta
Summary: Spoilers: Yes, some. Only in the act of losing complete control do we gain any measure of control. [GC]
1. Therapeutic Behavior

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine

Spoiler: "A Little Murder"

***** ***** ***** 

Title: To Lose Control

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Chapter 1: Therapeutic Behavior

The quiet purr of an engine cut into the strains of classical music playing softly in the early morning light. Grissom did not have to look out the window to know who his intruder was. He could hear the car roll to a halt and the loud contrast of a car door shutting. Gauging his timing nicely, he opened the front door to reveal Catherine.

She looked to be more on the side of worse for wear since the wound to her face was startling. He had read the report a number of times before his shocked mind could register the facts. No matter how many times he accepted a similar situation could occur in the course of their work, he could not help but feel guilty that he could not keep his people safe.

Wordlessly, he registered her tired frame and opened his arms. It took barely a nanosecond for her to decide to give herself over into the safety he offered. Her arms came around him as she walked into his embrace and they stood in his doorway giving and taking comfort.

"Thanks."

Her slightly muffled reply was accompanied by the growling of her stomach as they disentangled their limbs. She gave a rueful smile; he noted that she looked a thousand times better than when she was walking up to the door.

"Guess the adrenaline rush wore off now?"

"Yeah. Nothing like the good old flight-or-fight response to starve off an appetite."

"Come on. I've made some pancakes."

As they ate, Grissom could not help but notice the lingering signs of stress on Catherine. Although their initial conversation held all the tokens of normality, it was just to cover his worried concern and her state of shock. He could see the tension in her shoulders and the tiny shakes in her hand as she wielded the fork. She also failed to mention anything about the prolonged silence. However, the crux of the problem was that if he asked, "Are you alright?", she would only reply with, "Fine". Even when the evidence told otherwise, especially when it showed otherwise.

So, he did the only thing he could. He let her set the pace of the morning and would try to anticipate her needs. Generally, this was a difficult task since he was not into people, but Catherine made it easy for him. Their long friendship also gave him the experience he needed to accomplish his self-appointed task.

Getting up, he opened the freezer and pulled out some vanilla ice cream. He responded to her look of question by brandishing an ice cream scooper. They both grinned as she reached out for the utensil. Yes, there were things to be said for being long-time friends. Over the generous helping of ice cream heaped over the last of the pancakes on her plate, Grissom drizzled a healthy offering of hot butterscotch syrup.

Sparing a glance at her coffee cup, Grissom decided that she did not need any more stimulants circulating in her bloodstream. The best thing for her was sleep; it was the best way for her body to restore its equilibrium. Instead, he handed her a glass of cold water; it would help with flushing out her system.

She showed her appreciation for the breakfast, his company, and his care with a smile that took the air out of his lungs. It was a painful reminder to how close he had come to never seeing her treasured face again. To avoid bombarding her with questions, he began the process of clearing and cleaning their meal. In the still silent room, the process was carried out with the efficiency that only comes with repeated occurrences.

Eventually, he shooed her away and finished the last of the dishes on his own. With his back turned, he knew she had made her way to their favorite chair. It was a comfortable piece of furniture; he for reading and her for lounging. She usually claimed the chair for herself whenever she was at his place, and he realized that he never gave a fight. He could rarely refuse her anything, an unknown weakness on his part.

Her eyes were closed as she sprawled over the chair. Crossing the room to her, he nudged her into a sitting position and began a much needed and desired massage.

"I feel like pudding now, Gil." Her voice resonated loudly as it broke the silence for the first time since she entered the house.

"Good. You feel like sleeping yet?"

The shake of her strawberry-blond hair worried him so he tugged her gently across the room to the larger couch so both of them could sit more comfortably. Her movements were lethargic, caused by a combination of the after effects of the adrenaline and of his massage. He settled her at his side with her head on his shoulder. Hesitating only briefly, he took her hand while he mentally tried to fortify his mind for the conversation ahead.

"Talk to me, Cath."

Like a petulant child, she muttered, "I know what you're trying to do."

Smiling for the first time since he had read her report at the end of their shift, he only said, "That's reassuring. Then, I don't have to tell you that there is a reason why we have psychologists and psychiatrists."

He felt her amusement as she relaxed more at his side. The characteristic quiet of his voice did its job to persuade Catherine into a zone of comfort and care. By nature, Grissom was a patient man and felt no reason to rush his friend. They sat on the couch as the music reached a crescendo and wrapped its listeners around its emotional tale. Her eyes were closed as she carefully heeded the message in the music. The sonata was winding its way to an end and she desperately wanted her own story to end.

"I felt like I had lost control. When the - suspect - returned to the scene, I felt like everything just spun out of my ability to - grasp. It was all gone."

The best thing for Grissom to do was to remain silent. She needed to get everything out, even if he did not want to hear or know. If he interrupted her, she would stop and all his efforts would go to waste. So, he did the only thing he could: tighten his hold on her hand as his other arm snaked around her shoulders. She snuggled closer to his body in search of reassurance and warmth.

"When it was all over, I couldn't think. I couldn't remember anything. All I know is that I saw Lindsey's face; Gil, I'm really not afraid of dying. I would just regret not spending more time with her. Then I started shaking. At least, now I've stopped shaking."

He watched as she held up their entwined hands and contemplated them with her.

"But the problem is not that I needed closure by IDing him."

"What's the real problem?" He could not resist her unspoken invitation; he asked the question she could not voluntarily bring herself to answer.

When no answer to readily forthcoming, he reached out and tilted her face so he could read her eyes. The emotions expressed there broke what was left of his heart, but he forced himself to prompt, "What's the real problem?"

"That I'm still not in control."

TBC - Chapter 2: In An Act Of Faith

***** ***** *****

© RK 10.Nov.2002


	2. In An Act Of Faith

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine

Spoiler: "The Accused Is Entitled"

***** ***** ***** 

Title: To Lose Control

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Chapter 2: In An Act Of Faith

Emotionally exhausted, her tears followed a path dictated by gravity. He held and soothed her the best he could for the long minutes it took for her fear to loosen its hold.

When she finally lay quiet in an exhaustive state, he gently extracted himself from Catherine's desperate grasp and coaxed her to stretch out along the length of the couch. He rose and went to find a washcloth. Returning with it slightly soaked with cool water, he sat before Catherine and began to dab her face. His goal was to simultaneously remove the few remaining tears as they ran their course as well as to alleviate the tension still lining her face.

Her breathing slowed gradually but her body language told Grissom that she was still far from the complete relaxation found only in sleep. He reached to place the damp washcloth on the table and, without thinking, began to run a tentative hand through her hair.

They remained as such while an idea formed in Grissom's mind. He contemplated Catherine while wondering if it was the right thing to do. There was a time in his life when she helped him to give up control. It was an act of faith on his part but, ultimately, it was the only thing that saved his life.

"Cath?"

No verbal response. She shifted and some of her hair fell over her face. A wry, small smile flitted across Grissom's face; he leaned forward to brush the hair out of her face.

"Cath, look at me."

Clear eyes gazed back at him seconds later. His finger caressed the line of her jaw as his hand withdrew from her hair. It felt skin cooled from the washcloth; he felt electricity jolt down his arm.

Refocusing, he said, "Don't interrupt me until I've finished. Okay?"

A nod and those eyes reflected confusion. He laid a finger across her lips.

"Remember, wait until I've finished."

Grissom paused to take a moment to gather his thoughts; he needed to explain in a way so she would not refuse. If he did it right, she could not refuse.

"Somebody once told me that I had an issue with control. She accused me of being incapable of giving it up, that I needed it. Her exact words were: 'You need control to manage control.' This same person also told me that I had to give it up because I was at a point in my life where I was not a pleasant man to know. I admit I was a mess."

In hindsight, he had had plenty of reasons to be a miserable man. They say that misery loves company but he was bent on keeping his pain to himself. Instead, he kept everything bottled inside and presented a neutral face to the world. He honestly did not know any other way to act when he lost, at that time, the most important thing in his life. Thankfully, he had someone else who, unknowingly, took that place when she saved him from himself.

"Now, I know that same person went through a very similar experience in her past. At that point, I was ready to throw her out of this place. You know what she did?"

Catherine could only give a little smile. She did know. A matching smile graced Grissom's intent face.

"She planted herself in that chair over there and told me that I needed to lose control. The fact was that everything I ever did was to gain control over life. It's so unpredictable. Do you remember how angry I was with you? That you could just waltz into my life and tell me what I needed and what I should do?"

She nodded, still respecting his wish for her silence until the end. Very slowly, he raised his hand from where it had been resting in his lap and again entwined his fingers through hers. He needed to feel her to know that she was still actually there with him as well as wanting to touch her.

"But you saved my life that day when you told me that I needed to 'lose complete control to gain it back again'. It was sort of an oxymoron on life. I was stuck in between having control and losing it completely. I couldn't go back in time to keep it, so I had to finish the job. 'Lose complete control to gain it back again'."

The tears were back but not as desperate. She never knew the extent to which she had helped him that day. She only knew Grissom was back to what passed as normal for him.

"You took me to Route 66 and just stepped on the accelerator. I was at your mercy as we headed east. I couldn't tell you to slow down or to be careful at the turns. I was forced to trust you to keep us from killing ourselves at those speeds and I still trust you, Cath, with my life. All because you took away my control. Now, let me do the same for you."

"Is that why you ride rollercoasters?"

"Well, I couldn't always keep asking you to take a weekend and drive me to Ohio at some ludicrous speed. But you were right; I needed to feel the loss of control once in a while to live. So, yes, I rode rollercoasters. I had to trust the car, the track, and gravity to keep from death."

"Gil - you were always such a morbid man."

"Only because you know me so well, Cath."

She sat up slowly as she thought about Grissom's idea. Their hands still entwined ended up in her lap as he watched her eyes for an answer. It would be all too easy to give herself to Grissom, figuratively, of course. The only she needed to do was to have faith that he would keep her safe. Who was she kidding? If anything did not, his tenderness that morning spoke volumes.

"This wouldn't be an act of faith for me, Gil. I already trust you."

"Then give me your control. Let me give it back to you."

"You still have Tse?"

Standing quickly, he used his hold on her hand to bring her into the circle of his arms. She may not have said yes explicitly, but who else would know that name?

TBC - Chapter 3: Tse X2

***** ***** *****

© RK 11.Nov.2002


	3. Tse X2

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine

Spoiler: "Revenge Is Best Served Cold"

***** ***** ***** 

Title: To Lose Control

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Chapter 3: Tse X2

"Take your time. We're in no rush." With a nod, Grissom dismissed the mechanic to do his job.

Turning, he was about three meters away from Catherine who sat on a bench with her face titled to the mid-morning sun. The desert surrounding them was beginning to heat the air above the ground and he briefly wondered if her beauty was only an illusion caused by those heat waves. Dismissing the thought quickly, he crossed the track to her; the time was to help Catherine, not to make her feel uncomfortable with his emotions.

The smile on her face was genuine when she realized Grissom was sitting next to her. "It's been so long since I've been here."

"Yeah, the pit guys missed you, too." Her laughter was contagious, but her eyes remained haunted.

"You know, I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful she was."

He gazed across the track to the "she" Catherine was referring to. "Tse X2" was sitting amongst five mechanics who were in the midst of various checks on the engine, tires, and other safe guards. She looked a Honda Civic with all the trappings that made her into a passable race car. In actuality, she was a custom-built car. Her body was close to the ground and aerodynamic to reduce the wind's friction; the windows tinted to reduce the sun's glare off the track. Inside were harnesses to strap her passengers in and a steel skeleton was hidden beneath the sleek black paint. Her engine was kept in peak condition by the care of the same five mechanics since she had been designed and built.

"I'm glad you talked me into getting her."

"Well, I'm sure somebody would have eventually gotten annoyed when you kept borrowing the track's cars. You do have a tendency to wear tires."

"Not me, you."

"I know. It's been ages since I've driven her." She paused and looked Grissom straight in the eye. "When was the last time you took her out?"

He was unable to look away since her question demanded a completely honest answer. "Probably after the Haviland evidence hearing."

"No rollercoaster?"

"No. I needed more speed."

"Yeah. What I would have given to have been here with you."

"You could have just asked."

"I know. I miss this place."

They sat in silence as Tse X2's engine revved to life. Grissom was calculating the amount of years that had passed since Catherine last sat in the driver's seat of Tse X2. He could not remember; it had been so long, but he did remember the first time coming to the racetrack.

After that initial drive along Route 66 where they had ended up in Ohio, she knew life was fleeting. So, she looked for places around Vegas where people could come and drive at high speeds. This racetrack was the only place where they had cars for rent. Neither she nor Grissom had a suitable car, at the time, so the track was perfect. Thereafter, whenever Grissom needed the rush of loosing control, they came here.

She would drive around and around the track; he never knew how fast she went but she would not stop until he gave the signal. It was never as hard to lose control after the first time. In time, he actually enjoyed being subjected to Catherine's will. One week, they had been to the track three consecutive days; the following night, he brought the design plans for Tse X2. A few months later, they were back and every time, she was in control and he was giving it up to her.

Eventually, they knew it had to stop. She had a life to live and so did he. Due to some unspoken agreement when she got married, he stopped asking her for help. However, he still needed the rush so sometimes he would drive around alone. He never trusted anybody else enough to sit in Tse X2's driver's seat. Then, he discovered rollercoasters; it would never quite be the same, but it was a far distant substitute. Catherine was probably the only person who knew why he rode them; Warrick and Brass only knew he did.

Tse X2 was pushed onto the track and Grissom and Catherine walked over to greet her. It felt like the day they gave her her maiden trip around the track. In a way, it was. This would be the first time Grissom would be driving and Catherine was the passenger.

Strapping in was routine. He adjusted his seat and fidgeted with the mirrors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Catherine extract a tape from her pocket and place it in the tape deck. She did not push it in, the time for that would be later.

He started the engine and gave the ok signal to the mechanics. Glancing briefly over to his passenger, he shifted gears and started off slowly down the long stretch of the track. The vibration of the car was relaxing both of them.

It took a few trips around the track with ever increasing speed before the leather gloves he had put on were barely necessary. Increasing to higher speeds at smaller increments made him acknowledge gratefully the nearly vertical curved banks. Without them, he would have to be sure to slow down to navigate the turn correctly; with them, he was free to keep increasing his speed. He did not bother to check his speed since experience told him he just entered the hundred miles per hour range. His leather gloves were functioning nicely to keep his hands from slipping off the wheel, thereby preventing the car from careening off the track.

A quick glance at Catherine along the long stretch showed him a full grin. Her eyes were bright as she let the speed influence her mind. The whole situation was a little mind-numbing; just the thing they both needed. Bringing his eyes back to the track as they entered the turn, he heard Catherine push the tape into the player. The present volume blasted Steppenwolf out of the speakers. There was the signal; ten more laps around the track slowed them down enough for Grissom to stop the car.

Catherine stopped and ejected the tape so he could hear her. "God, I feel almost as good as when Nick and I raced to prove Tony Del Negro killed Jace Felder in that street car race."

"Almost as good?" They un-strapped themselves and exited the car.

An amazing grin adorned her face. "Yeah! I feel better, if that's even possible."

His matching smile told her exactly how he felt. Though - on another day, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week - she would still have to deal with some of the more traumatizing elements of the experience, to avert the onset of post-traumatic stress disorder, at that very moment, she was back in control. His goal was accomplished.

All in all, that morning, an eternity passed in seven minutes.

  


BTW, if anybody is curious, "Tse X2" can be construed as Tsetse, which is the common name for a genus of flies from Africa. In crossword puzzles, "half a fly" is typically used when they want "tse" as the answer. For more information, http://www.tulane.edu/~wiser/protozoology/notes/vector.html. This is something Grissom would know, both as an entomologist and a crossword puzzle fanatic. I also figured that he would be quirky enough to name his car something like Tse X2. Can't you just imagine driving down a street and seeing a car with "TSE X2" on the license plate?

TBC - Chapter 4: Vain Imaginings

***** ***** *****

© RK 11.Nov.2002


	4. Vain Imaginings

CSI - To Lose Control 

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine

Spoiler: None this time.

***** ***** ***** 

Title: To Lose Control

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Chapter 4: Vain Imaginings

He watched her sleep while the sun trekked higher to its zenith. Never had he seen her sleep this deeply before. Her lips curved into a smile and he wondered what she dreamed. Like he did earlier that morning, his finger traced the line of her jaw. The jolt of electricity returned to traverse his body and he knew that he would have to tell her someday why it was always so easy for him to give up his control to her. She would realize that habit sooner or later and, when she did, he would have to bear his soul. Fervently, he wished for the latter so he would have more time to prepare. Then, just as desperately, he wanted sooner so his jumbled emotions would straighten themselves.

Whenever he thought about that future conversation, he was terrified but he could not stop himself from imagining it. The situation was cathartic in the way people gawk at a crime scene; you can not believe the crime happened but you are helpless to look away.

His watched beeped the hour and he realized that he had been sitting on her bedroom floor for just under an hour. The peaceful surrender he experienced there before her bed and observing the rhythmic breathing of her sleeping body was distracting, to say the least. His body begged for sleep; his mind demanded the same; his heart wanted her to waken so he could confess his feelings for her. Two against three; those odds brought a reluctant Grissom to his feet. He tucked the blanket more securely around Catherine and, with a last, lingering look, he left the room.

Twenty minutes later, he re-entered Catherine's house with a long-stemmed white rose. Pausing in the kitchen to write a note to her, he propped both objects up on the mirror of her vanity. With thoughts still lingering on Catherine, he drove home; once there, he promptly fell into a myriad of visual depictions of his uncontrollable emotions.

  


Four hours later, he woke slowly, yearning to linger in his dream state. He was fully awake in a matter of seconds and lay staring at the ceiling. His dreams did not help him at all; they centered on the various outcomes of that future conversation with Catherine. Sometimes it really was detrimental to have a logical, scientific brain. He had dreamt of all the possible results; some were not so bad, some ended with a broken heart, and some left a pleasantly accelerated heart beat.

The only thing that did not change from dream to dream was his words. Of course, the manner of his wording and the actual words themselves differed, but every time, they meant the same thing. He knew Catherine very well, but he could not predict her response to his declaration. Did he really want to? Perhaps it would give him false hope; that was not so bad. Or perhaps he would lie to her because he feared her reaction; that was not helpful. Blinking, he acknowledged that he was back in that cathartic state of mind.

He gave himself to the moment; a feat rare for him. Would it actually be so bad to imagine what it would be like to explain himself to Catherine?

He would have to admit that she had been right on many accounts. Namely, everything he did in life was meant to exercise control over destiny. He could not separate work from his personal life because one was neatly ordered while the other was a nonexistent mess. He choose a career path that would aid in his thirst for knowledge. They say: "to know is to name" and he desperately needed the illusion of knowing. A long time ago, he thought that if he knew everything then nothing could ever take him by surprise. He hated surprises; the divorce of his parents blind-sided him as a young child and the death of his mother had caught him by surprise. Even his attraction to Catherine initially stunned him.

Crossword puzzles were a pathetic excuse of control. They were structured and he had to force answers to fit other the clues yet they were a pastime that reinforced the vast pools of information stored in his brain. Investigating crimes were a similar type of puzzle; the clues were evidence that fit to only a single combination of answers.

He accepted the promotion to nightshift supervisor because that gave him more control over everything in the lab. Ambitious he was not nor was he overbearingly intolerable like Ecklie, but the promotion was enough to satisfy a little of his need for control. Every morning when he left work, he would remember that he was leaving a well-oiled structure and entering the world of unpredictability. A world where fate and destiny still played their cards with omnipotent abilities.

He would need to explain that losing control to her was not nearly as bad as when she slipped control away from between his own fingertips. When that happens, it is never difficult to voluntary give her control. It was always the initial act that carried the most amount of fear.

  


It was like a cliff. Below was the cool, clear, blue water that promised to soothe his too warm skin. Remaining at the precipice meant being burned. Above him existed the cloudless sky that promised peace, freedom, and - hopefully - happiness beyond comprehension. For so long, he had been toeing the line, too indecisive to choose: remain or jump?

Then, one day, he was pushed off the cliff and had been falling ever since. They say not to look down because vertigo has a tendency of frightening people and causes nausea. However, he could not look up because, in doing so, he would acknowledge that he had been falling in love with her.

He had been able to trust Catherine during that fateful trip along Route 66 in the first place because he had already lost control over his heart. She thought his act of giving up control to her over that weekend was his first. She was far from right; it was practice by that point.

Without knowing, he had jumped off his protective cliff, which crumbled as his feet left farewell prints upon the earth. Early on, as he gazed at the water, he realized that the distance from here to there was ever increasing. Infinity lay between him and the only way to extinguish the smoldering love he had for her.

On the other hand, he craved the courage to look up at the heavens. He wanted to soar and feel the wings of love lift him to the sun and burn him. He did not care if this would be the last time he would ever fall in love; he never wanted to again. Catherine was so special; he did not want to live without her. She had been there and coaxed him into situations never before imagined to force him to live. Without her, life could not matter.

Grissom contemplated his last thought. "Without her, life could not matter." Now was the time to make a decision; he was past the time for ignoring his feelings. On one way, he would fly; in the other, he would stay alone and burned from his stay atop the cliff for the rest of his life. He knew from his observations of people that love always left scars.

With a sigh, he contemplated his choices. Maybe he was vainly imagining the rest of his life, but heedless of the consequences, at this single moment at least, he would make a conscious decision. In his mind's eye, he turned and gazed into the cerulean promise of the sky.

Chapter 5: Destiny Is A Beautiful Thing

***** ***** *****

© RK 12.Nov.2002


	5. Destiny Is A Beautiful Thing

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine

Spoiler: None.

***** ***** ***** 

Title: To Lose Control

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Chapter 5: Destiny Is A Beautiful Thing

He was glad Catherine heeded the words of his note and stayed at home that night. He had had enough while dealing with Warrick.

His first glance at Warrick showed a man who barely dozed because guilt filled his mind. Contrary to popular opinion, Grissom was not completely devoid of compassion and it was compassion that drove Grissom to keep Warrick lab-bound for the duration of the shift. He knew Warrick would not be able to handle dealing with a crime scene and suggested he just handle the evidence to any cases as they arrived at the lab.

Thankfully, Warrick did not argue; he just took himself to join Greg in losing his tympanic membrane. Grissom was also thankful that Catherine had called unexpectedly; he confessed that he wondered about calling her. He hoped to hear her voice and to know she was still doing alright. She gave him affirmatives on both counts.

It seemed as though life knew exactly when to throw curve balls and when not to. Tonight, there were a number of straight-forward cases; it was quantity not fascination that kept Sara, Nick, and him busy. Lab work progressed quickly since Warrick was over there with Greg. With a few scant hours left in the dwindling hours of shift, the ever popular paperwork engrossed everybody's attention and Warrick was left with his face smashed into a table. Grissom sent him home.

  


Dawn broke predictably over the desert horizon, and Grissom found himself drawn to Catherine's house. For a few moments, he debated on using his key to quietly enter the house. Maybe he would be able to watch her sleep again; with a shake of his head, he convinced himself to walk to the back of the house instead.

Bathed in the morning light, she appeared to glow with the vibrancy of her health and a good night's sleep. She was reading the paper and her posture said that she was waiting for someone. Lindsey was not up yet, that much was obvious; the house was too quiet since the morning cartoons could not be heard. Grissom noted a finished mug of coffee was near her left hand and it stood sentinel with a glass of iced tea that was slowly condensing the air around it. They were guarding section A and the crossword puzzle of today's newspaper, which lay folded in front of the seat to her left.

She gave no indication that she heard him approach the patio steps, but she was not surprised when he spoke.

"Expecting anybody?"

"Aside from the one who just showed up? No." She was not looking at him so she missed his unconcealed surprise.

Then the iced tea was for him and she must have removed the crossword puzzle from the paper so Lindsey would not commandeer the section to read the comics. She was a feisty little angel already with her own set of habits.

He took the seat Catherine initially offered him and glanced quickly at the headlines. "Anything new?"

"You guys made a little inset on page five."

"Why?"

"Something about going to great lengths for justice. Some essay; it said nothing in so many words."

"Give it to me in a hundred words."

Finally, she looked up from newspaper and flashed a grin. "If you put it that way."

"One hundred and counting. Tick, tick."

"The criminalists of the Las Vegas Crime Lab are on the frontiers of science; they use cutting-edge technology, old-fashion detective work, and a whole lot of intelligence to solve crimes. Their understanding in many areas of expertise gives them an unsurpassable knowledge of the interior workings of a crime. They're smarter than us. Don't be stupid and commit a crime; they'll catch you. They'll even enjoy every double shift it takes to do it. Another thing, we'd recommend trying not to find the perfect murder; with them around, there's no such thing. Pure gibberish."

He gave a rare, broad smile. Twenty-four hours ago, he would never have thought that he would be having this conversation with Catherine. It seemed that his life had been on hold all before that. Unfortunately, it took Catherine's accident to catalyze the past twenty-four hours; he had gone from the pits of despair to the heights of acknowledging his love for her.

Suddenly, she reached over and captured Grissom's hand. She held it like a lifeline. "We've had a wild ride, haven't we?"

Throat dry, he used his free hand to find the ice tea. "Yes, it's amazing how much change occurs over a single night."

"But I noticed one thing has never changed - our friendship. It's grown to become one of two things I cherish the most." There was no need to state that Lindsey was the most important thing in her life.

"I value it highly, too, but I think that it has changed. We've changed so that changes the nature of our friendship."

"True. Friendship is defined by our experiences and feelings, isn't it?" She mulled over the concept and she looked mysteriously happy. "Then I'm glad we've changed."

"What do you mean?"

She brushed her thumb intentionally over his confined hand as she whispered, "Someday, I'll tell you. When I'm ready."

His heart fluttered. He desperately wished to continue the thread of conversation, but the time had past. Lindsey could be heard within doors and, for Grissom, it was time to begin the first day of the rest of his life. Sometimes anticipation is an excellent form of mania.

Lindsey bounded out the back door and cheered at Grissom's presence at the table. Quickly giving her mom the customary hug and kiss, she climbed into Grissom's lap. That rare, broad grin lightened with the little girl's innocent affection. It was also a spring balm to both adults.

  


If any of the neighbors glanced out their windows at that moment, they would have seen a long practiced tradition: a family eating breakfast together on the back patio. They would have seen the form of ordinary parents whose love for their daughter shone brightly. Family need not necessarily be defined by blood ties; happiness in the company of another is a far better definition.

  


Would Catherine and he eventually voice their love? He could not predict the future, only the unknown past, but it felt good to abandon the rest of his life to fate. He was sure destiny would ensure a time and place for them though he still felt compelled to ask: was it truly essential? They already acquired everything anybody ever looked for in a married relationship. They had a constant friendship, a true companion in each other, and devotion beyond the sacred vows of marriage. Maybe they even received more than most people; this was what made their relationship especially unique.

However, had Grissom possessed Warrick's uncanny skill with betting for the winning side, he would have gambled on "yes."

FIN

***** ***** *****

© RK 13.Nov.2002


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